


Nothing Inbetween

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Character Study, Desire, Duty, F/M, Loneliness, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage, Relationship(s), Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Queen Anne is many things to many people. She knows what she wants to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Inbetween

**Author's Note:**

> Set before episode 1x09 'Knight Takes Queen'.

 

 

His hand touched hers, but it was so often cold.

 

Anne always smiled though and looked upon him with warmth. He was her King and her husband. He was not a father yet. They tried, when the King had a mind to, but so far, all they had achieved was false hope and shadows. Anne tried not to think of it, the empty space beside them, the duty that she was not fulfilling. Of course it was not the King's fault.

 

Sometimes, she thought that perhaps they were friends, if she understood the concept correctly. Her friends had always been chosen for her, those who it would be most advantageous for her to know. She knew though, from watching those who were unaware of her gaze, that such things were different for other people. Perhaps the time she spent with the King added up to friendship. She was his ally certainly, his staunch supporter, a duty she always took on gladly. But it could also be more than that.

 

She could enjoy his company, when his mood was not petulant. She had learned how to soothe his temper and cause him to enjoy having her at his side. He liked pretty things and so he liked to gaze on her, particularly when she dressed in the French fashion. He liked to buy her dresses and jewellery. She always thanked him with happiness and gratitude because she liked pretty things too. But she treasured most the smile he often gave her in return. It was a smile that she rarely saw him favour anyone else with. It was a smile that meant sometimes he held her close to his heart, when he was moved to.

 

She had not chosen the King, but she was glad of the match. He was not cruel or hurtful, true, his time was rarely entirely hers but that was to be expected; he was the King, there was no one more important in France and every day, people waited for an audience with him. And there were the pursuits that he enjoyed so much as well, like hunting and swordplay. When he smiled at her, Anne believed that he held her as something so important too. It was a heady precious feeling, finer than even her diamonds and silks.

 

If the King had lovers, that was his right. He was the King, he was France. Anne strove to never look saddened or hurt when the King admired a beautiful woman. She understood, she had been brought up in the Spanish court. She had been young when she had left it, but she remembered the shape and run of things there. She remembered what leisures were valued and how those who held great royal power and responsibility liked to be surrounded by pleasure and beauty, to ease the weight they always carried. She was honoured to be considered so by the King, even if she was not his sole source for such things. He told her sometimes that she pleased him, such words warmed her heart.

 

*

 

She sometimes thought about the Spanish court, the world that she had left before she was fully grown. She remembered well the numerous advisers and counsellors who had assisted her parents, wanting always to smooth the way and offer guidance. The Cardinal reminded her greatly of some of those advisers, like them he too had a countenance akin to one of the King's favoured birds of prey, watchful and sharp and occasionally predatory. He was a ruthless man, Anne could see that plainly, but she found no fault in it. The Cardinal worked tirelessly to maintain the King's rule and to keep it a holy one, of course he believed that his advice would provide the strongest outcome. He was a learned man and Anne listened to him when he spoke.

 

She did not always agree with his words though and she was not afraid to speak out. Her mother had taught her that a Queen was often a counsellor to her King, that women were blessed because they saw the things that men did not and that it was her place to be steadfast beside her husband, to offer guidance and be the rock that he could rely on when he could rely on nothing else. The Cardinal always seemed taken aback when Anne spoke, particularly when the King listened and followed her advice.

 

The Cardinal saw her only as the one who would provide the King with an heir, and she not fulfilled that function yet. His judgemental gaze occasionally made her feel small and inadequate. He also had no love for the Spanish, she had heard him talk of war as the most viable way in which to deal with the Spanish threat. Anne always remained calm and apparently unhurt by such accusations, for she was no longer Spanish, only French.

 

Silently though, in sparse moments when she was allowed privacy under God's gaze, she shook silently and said prayers for little Philip, Maria-Anna, Ferdinand, and Charles. She had been both sister and mother to them and she missed them with a deep ache. But they were destined for duties like her own, she only hoped that in moments such as these, they fondly thought of her too.

 

When the Cardinal brought news to the King, sometimes there were cleverly-disguised gaps amongst his words but Anne saw them because she had grown up listening to such reports at her father's knee and like her mother before her, had learned to see what was not being said. She never questioned the Cardinal about it, because who was there to step into his place at the King's side? His priority was France's fortunes, therefore his concern was the King. Not all advisers would be so zealous in their loyalties to crown and country. Anne took silent note of the Cardinal's verbal gaps though and tried to remember them, to see if there was a discernible pattern.

 

Whilst the Cardinal was essential to France's future, truthfully Anne preferred Captain Treville's company. The King often said that he so often called on the Captain because he was an honest man, who did not simply say what the King wished to hear. There was value in an honest voice, Anne could see that and was glad that the King could see it too. The Captain spoke without cultured refinement, but he was a man who would draw his sword to protect the King, a loyal man like the Cardinal, perhaps even more so because the Captain would put himself before musket and sword if such an action would ensure the King's safety. Anne could not say it was likely that the Cardinal would ever do such a thing.

 

She enjoyed conversing with the Captain, he did not seem to think it improper when she asked about the Musketeers or about the world beyond the palace walls. If anything he seemed appreciative of her interest. Of course the Cardinal made no secret of his dislike of the Musketeers, the Captain had to often feel as though he was fighting for his men. His unvarnished passion for his job was refreshing, his heart so clear and true in a world of mannered opaqueness. The more time that Anne spent with the Captain the more she appreciated that and how strongly he defended and led the Musketeers. He was glad for Aramis that this was his Captain. She was careful not to talk of Aramis to anyone though, especially the Captain. She was young but she was not a fool.

 

Perhaps if she learned more of other Musketeers, then Aramis would not seem so fascinating.

 

“I hear one of your apprentices has been commissioned as a Musketeer, Captain.”

 

The Captain nodded, he still bore the marks of the Musketeers' fight with the Cardinal's Red Guard. The King had spoken well of the event, he had mentioned how the Cardinal's man had cheated and that several Musketeers had shown great loyalty to their Captain before the King had chosen to commission the young d'Artagnan, the Musketeer who had first run to his Captain's aid.

 

“He is eager and yet to master his quick-temper, but he has great skill with the sword.”

 

“And loyalty to his fellow Musketeers, and to his King?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

Anne nodded, she tried to recall if she had met d'Artagnan, she remembered a young man who had stood beside Aramis once or twice, his hair long and dark and his eyes inquisitive. He had had a quick smile and a quicker sword. Perhaps he was a friend of Aramis, perhaps they had celebrated his commission together. She liked to think of Aramis having such companions amongst the Musketeers. She could not truly imagine a soldier's life, but after what had happened at the prison, she was glad of the King's Musketeers. They continued to prove themselves loyal and gallant, fit for a King, and for a Queen.

 

Anne kept such thoughts from her face as she spoke again to Captain Treville. “I should like to meet the Musketeer who so caught His Majesty's eye.”

 

The Captain didn't look as though he thought the idea a terrible one. “Of course, Your Majesty. Perhaps it might encourage him to look to his betters more.”

 

Anne smiled and her thoughts turned again to Aramis too quickly. Whenever their paths crossed, he was courteous and kind, seeming interested in her words, never brushing them aside. She had been disgracefully jealous upon seeing the token she had given him around the neck of the Comtesse Ninon De Larroque and his simple explanation for its presence there had shamed her.

 

He was a good man, one who loved God and appreciated women. Anne thought of that sometimes, when she slept, she thought and wondered if God had positioned such a man close to her in order to give her some respite, some enjoyment, when the King was distracted or had no wish to see her. Aramis could no doubt be discreet and she could still vividly recall his body urgently pressed to hers at the prison, shielding her from musket fire and taking her breath away. Occasionally she ached for that press again.

 

But when she woke, she recalled just as vividly that she was the Queen, the King's consort, and that always she was to be consumed by duty to this country and to her King. She was to be a mother, an even greater duty than that of a wife. If only her body would not betray her, if only she would successfully conceive.

 

Her gaze still sought out Aramis though and she thought that she would remember his touch always, even as she sat hand in hand with the King.

 

She listened to her husband's conversations, noting who made him stiffen with anger and who caught his interest. She noted clothing styles and manners that caught his eye, what dances and delicacies he enjoyed most. He was the sun, the celestial body around which she spun. Aramis could be nothing but a falling star, always catching her eye, always out of reach, always...

 

The King exerted the slightest pressure around her hand as he held court and Anne focused once more on him. The King was talking of his Navy again and Anne could feel warmth in her fingers, her heart a mad rush beneath a composed exterior. That was what mattered, it was all that could.

 

_-the end_


End file.
